


Seeing Blue

by ghoulette13



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Crack, F/M, hygiene problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 07:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16908321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulette13/pseuds/ghoulette13
Summary: She would always tease him with the swing of her hips. A sly glance over her shoulder as she leaned against the bar, ordering drinks. Sometimes she would sit at the table next to him, slowly unzip her jacket enough that he got a great view of her tits if he bothered to look. It was as if she knew by the tight line of his lips and off-kilter gait that he was housing a burning package of hurt between his thighs. Balls turning bluer than the earth from far far away.------------Charon finally confronts the Lone Wanderer about some unrelieved tension.//Written for the Fallout Kink Meme back in the day, also posted on ff.net





	Seeing Blue

_Every. Fucking. Time._ He wasn't even attracted to smoothskins. Not his type. He preferred the rough asymmetry of the ghoulettes in Underworld. Yet every fucking time that vaultie from 101 came walking through the door, he was half mast, dick pressing uncomfortably into the cup of his armor. He was lucky it wasn't visible. Though sometimes he wondered how the patrons of the Ninth Circle would react to see the giant, silent ghoul in the corner with a thick bulge ripping the seams of his pants. The amusing thought only briefly brought his mind away from the awkward change in blood flow to his loins.

She would always tease him with the swing of her hips. A sly glance over her shoulder as she leaned against the bar, ordering drinks. Sometimes she would sit at the table next to him, slowly unzip her jacket enough that he got a great view of her tits if he bothered to look. It was as if she knew by the tight line of his lips and off-kilter gait that he was housing a burning package of hurt between his thighs. Balls turning bluer than the earth from far far away.

He had to get it out of his system. Had to get rid of these poorly timed involuntary physical reactions. Had to flush it out somehow. _That fucking tease._ So after the bar closed one night, after Azrukhal was safely asleep in a tightly locked room, he found the smoothskin in the atrium. She was shooting the shit with Patches, finishing a small bottle of watered down vodka. Charon wasn't quite sure how it happened, but suddenly Patches walked away leaving the vaultie to look around in confusion. Her jelly-drunk body stiffed at the sight of Charon taking large steps to close the space between them.

“Uh... hey there, big guy. W-What's happenin?” She never expected him to act. Thought it was just a fun game.

“Let's take a walk, smoothskin.”

He grabbed her by the waist and guided her to the lower levels of the history museum. The one quiet place for them to retreat. It had been cleared of ferals, but not yet renovated. She was giggling the entire time, barely stifling her big dumb grin. He wasn't interested in kissing her full lips, taking the air from her throat. He didn't care what she tasted like. He didn't care what her nipples were like. He just wanted to fuck her and get her out of his head.

She had just wanted to fuck him, too. Had a thing for big burly quiet men, imposing order by instilling fear. She was certain that underneath his get-up were thick muscles, rock-hard and statuesque. And here she was. About to lose her ghoul-virginity to Charon, the ferocious enigma.

At first all she smelled was the oiled leather of his armor, a comforting and distinct musk. She fumbled with the buckles while he watched impatiently. She was giddy and nervous—too excited for her own good. Once his armor and shirt were removed, a strange odor punched her in the face. It was dark and she tried her best to hide her expression. A few seconds passed before she translated the odor to something logical in her mind.

It was as if a dead mole rat had been shat on by a fermented deathclaw.

Charon, unable to see the look on her face, assumed she gasped in awe of his sculpted features. “Like what you see?”

“Yeah,” she choked out. _How can someone so sexy smell so fucking terrible?_ she wondered. _Is it just Charon or is it all ghouls? How have I not noticed this until now?_

He turned her around, much to her relief, and yanked her pants down far enough for him to rub her clit with his rough fingers. She tried with all her effort to ignore the putrid aroma and focus on how perfectly he aroused her. He spread her wetness up and down her slit. Her knees shook. She could feel the hard cup of his armor pushing into her, then he backed away for a few moments. She assumed he was pulling his pants down, and then she felt his forearm pressed against her ass.

But that didn't make sense. One of his hands was between her legs and the other wrapped around her stomach.

It was his dick. It had to be.

She reached her own hand back. Her fingers were dwarfed by his massive girth. It was impossible. No one's dick could ever be that big. Maybe a supermutant. Maybe a deathclaw. _Maybe._ But no human or ghoul could possibly have a cock as thick as the Washington Monument. She had to see the proof. The lone wanderer held her breath and turned around to see Charon's tower, fully erect, and yes, the size of his forearm.

Her brain could not compute. It cycled through files of biological diagrams and mathematical ratios. But no answer to sate her puzzled mind.

Another misunderstanding on Charon's part led him to ask, “Why don't you give it a taste, kid?” If he was going to do this, he wanted to get as much as he could out of it.

But she was already gagging at the rancid odor of his muggy penis emanating in waves of displeasure. “No. No fucking way,” she screamed.

So he grabbed her and shoved her against the wall. She didn't complain, only perked her ass up for him. She'd rather smell the mildew on the wall than Charon's disgustingly rotten flesh. Then she was being shoved forward, face slamming the decaying wallpaper while something bashed the opening of her vagina.

It was his dick.

And it was too big.

Too big to even get inside of her. Charon's cock was so gigantic, it was physically impossible for him to fuck the smoothskin.

All these weeks of uncomfortable boners couldn't even be remedied because the vaultie was too small for him. He had the hard-on of a lifetime, at the wet center of his object of desire, and he couldn't do shit about it because their pieces didn't fit together.

 _What the fuck is going on?_ He growled and stomped and tried harder, but it just wouldn't work.

To make it worse, the little vaultie started giggling. It turned into laughter and when she turned around to face him, she started gagging again. He pressed his body against her, sandwiching her with the wall, and she started dry heaving. Cackling and dry heaving while her eyes watered from the smell and amusement.

“Oh, God, Charon. Just stop! Okay? Just stop!”

It was too much for her and she started choking between chuckles and nauseous spasms of her esophagus. She tripped over her pants that had spilled to her ankles and fell bare ass on the dirty tiled floor. In a fiery rage, Charon redressed and stormed out of the museum, intent to kill every fucking supermutant in the entire Mall. Along with every Brotherhood of Steel fucker that dared to take a potshot. Along with any other poor soul that he came across. Death. That's all he wanted to see at that moment. The lone wanderer laid half naked on the ground, still laughing to herself and wondering if Patches would be offended by a test whiff. _Was it Charon or was it ghouls?_ She was intent to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Charon to bits and pieces, but this was too much fun to write.


End file.
